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Best Famous Wino Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Wino poems. This is a select list of the best famous Wino poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Wino poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of wino poems.

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Written by Maya Angelou | Create an image from this poem

Men

When I was young, I used to
Watch behind the curtains
As men walked up and down the street.
Wino men, old men.
Young men sharp as mustard.
See them.
Men are always Going somewhere.
They knew I was there.
Fifteen Years old and starving for them.
Under my window, they would pauses, Their shoulders high like the Breasts of a young girl, Jacket tails slapping over Those behinds, Men.
One day they hold you in the Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you Were the last raw egg in the world.
Then They tighten up.
Just a little.
The First squeeze is nice.
A quick hug.
Soft into your defenselessness.
A little More.
The hurt begins.
Wrench out a Smile that slides around the fear.
When the Air disappears, Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly, Like the head of a kitchen match.
Shattered.
It is your juice That runs down their legs.
Staining their shoes.
When the earth rights itself again, And taste tries to return to the tongue, Your body has slammed shut.
Forever.
No keys exist.
Then the window draws full upon Your mind.
There, just beyond The sway of curtains, men walk.
Knowing something.
Going someplace.
But this time, I will simply Stand and watch.
Maybe.


Written by Alden Nowlan | Create an image from this poem

A Certain Kind of Holy Men

 Not every wino is a Holy Man.
Oh, but some of them are.
I love those who've learned to sit comfortably for long periods with their hams pressed against their calves, outdoors, with a wall for a back-rest, contentedly saying nothing.
These move about only when necessary, on foot, and almost always in pairs.
I think of them as oblates.
Christ's blood is in their veins or they thirst for it.
They have looked into the eyes of God, unprotected by smoked glass.

Book: Reflection on the Important Things